


Ontario Kids

by unkindravens



Series: The Ballad of Stevie Budd [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Backstory, F/F, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 12:03:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20358181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkindravens/pseuds/unkindravens
Summary: Day in the life of fourteen-year-old Stevie.





	Ontario Kids

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Larry Clark's _Kids_, so it's kinda dark. Seriously, look at the tags.
> 
> This is the start of a series that will take place present day SC.

“Wake up, Squirrel.” 

I groaned beneath my blanket. I didn’t know what time it was, but it was way too early for Aunt Maureen to be bothering me.

“Leave me alone,” I whined.

“No can do. Now get your ass up, I need help at the motel.” She slapped my rear and left the room.

I flung off the covers and sank to the floor next to my pile of, probably, clean clothes. One day that trip to IKEA was going to happen and I’ll have a dresser here. I stumbled out of Maureen’s spare room and took a shower.

In the kitchen, I hopped onto the counter with my cereal. The room was dated with orange, brown, and yellow flowered wallpaper and dark Formica countertops. “Can I have some coffee?” I asked, mouth full. 

“You’re only fourteen, no you can’t have coffee,” Maureen said. “There’s Coke in the fridge.”

“That’s even worse! There’s loads of sugar and it’ll rot my teeth.”

Maureen sighed and poured a mug of coffee and handed it to me. “That means you have to take it black.” 

I took a sip. It was bitter and earthy and cheap. I loved it. “Thank you.”

“So,” Maureen began, leaning against the stove to appraise me. “Mrs. Schitt called me last night.”

“To tell you what a model student I am?”

Maureen put a hand on her hip. “To tell me you kicked Mutt.”

“He was being an asshole. He keeps shoving Ted against the lockers. It’s obnoxious.”

“I didn’t know you were friends with the Mullens boy.”

“I’m not, he’s _ way _ too nice. Mutt’s a bully. I would have punched him in the face if he wasn’t so fucking tall.”

“You’re lucky Mrs. Schitt didn’t tell the principal, especially given it was her son.” Maureen took my empty cereal bowl, rinsed it off, and left it in the sink. “However, she says you’re her brightest student. You’re at the top of your class.”

“I don’t have much competition,” I muttered, sipping my coffee.

“My point is,” Maureen said, ignoring me, “you need to keep your shit together. You’re going to college, young lady. And watch your fucking mouth.”

I couldn't help but smile as I slid off the counter. “If you insist.”

“Hey,” she said, grabbing my arm as I walked by, “I’m proud of you, Squirrel. For you grades and for kicking that actual little shit. Just keep the heroics outside of school, huh?”

I kissed her on the cheek. “Anything for you, Auntie Maureen.”

***

People are disgusting. I’m only on my second room of cleaning at the motel and have already found a condom, a syringe, and a pregnancy test - all used and not even in the trash. If I get hep C from this, I’m suing my entire family.

“Budd!” I heard from outside, but ignored it. I wasn’t in the mood. “Budd!”

“BUDD!”

Oh, my god. I stomped out of the door. “What?” I yelled.

My cousin Sean and his moronic friend Chris were weaving their dirt bikes around the parking lot. 

“When are you done?” Sean yelled. Didn’t even bother getting off of his bike. Honestly.

“Got one more room. What do you want?”

“Some bud!” Chris yelled, nearly falling off his bike with laughter.

“Very clever,” I said. “Meet me behind Bob’s in an hour.”

“Thanks, cuz,” Sean yelled, biking away.

I went inside and yanked the sheets off the bed. Sean’s two years older than me, I don’t know why I’m the weed connection of the family. Boys are pathetic.

***

I rode my bike to Keith’s house. I hated going to Keith’s house; the front yard is a field of weeds with two flattened tracks from his dirty truck. You can see the sheets covering the windows and the house itself was shedding white paint. 

I knocked on the door and heard movement inside.

“You gotta stop with the cop knock, kid,” he said, letting me into the house. I sat on the puffy sofa that was covered with burn marks.

He sat next to me, his bare knee touching mine. I wanted to move, but it was just easier this way. Keith was harmless, just scaggy, grossly skinny, and covered with DIY tattoos.

I pulled a wad of cash from my pocket. “I’m short ten, can you float me ‘till next time?”

“Anything for you, Flower.” He took my money and produced a dime bag. “I’ll even smoke you out.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“What you up to today? Running with the gang?” he asked while packing a bowl. Me and my friends did have a bit of a reputation in town.

“Probably just chillin,’” I said, taking a hit.

Keith stretched his pale legs. “You know you’re always welcome here, Flower.”

I was bestowed with the nickname “Flower” when Keith found out my last name was Budd.

“I appreciate it,” I said, taking one more courtesy hit. “I gotta go meet my cousin, promised I’d hook him up.” I stood and walked to the door.

“Make sure you overcharge him, Flower.”

“Always do.”

***

“You didn’t roll any for us?”

“Jesus, Sean, I’m not your mother. Learn to roll yourself.”

We stood in the gravel behind the garage. It was quiet, but I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. Bob was always in and out of the place.

“You comin’ to the party tonight?” Chris asked. He crowded himself into my space.

“Maybe,” I said.

“It’d be real dope if you did,” he said in a low voice. “Maybe we can… dance.”

“Dude, that’s my cousin!” Sean yelled.

“Yeah, but she’s not _ my _ cousin,” Chris said, grabbing the front of his pants.

“Aw, Chris, you know I hate romance.” I swung a leg over by bike and rode a circle around them. “Later, losers!”

I biked to the Cafe and banged on the backdoor. One of the cooks opened it, rolled his eyes, and yelled over his shoulder, “Twyla, the little one’s here!”

A minute later Twyla appeared at the door. 

“You off for the day?” I ask. 

“Yeah, you?”

“Thank fuck. You wanna go to the creek? I’m bored.”

Five minutes later I sped us to the creek, Twyla secured on the back of my bike. The wind snapped my hair and stung my eyes as we rode past Bob’s Garage, past the motel, past everything in town. This was one of my favorite feelings, peddling hard enough to blur the scenery. We passed Schitt’s Creek’s city limit, the world before us.

***

We sat on the bank of the creek where it widened into an almost real river. The water was clear enough to see pebbles and little fish at the bottom.

I pulled a pack of Belmonts from my pocket, handed one to Twyla, lit it for her, then lit my own.

“Tommy said you kicked Mutt,” Twyla said. “Left a big bruise on his shin. Everyone’s giving him shit for it.”

“Yeah, well, he deserved it,” I said, dragging on my cigarette.

“He’s so mean, I can’t believe I lost my virginity to him,” Twyla said.

I laughed. “Same!”

She giggled. “Guys are so stupid. And having sex is kind of… gross. You ever notice that?”

“Yeah,” I shrugged. “They don’t seem super concerned about us. Maybe they get better when they’re older?”

“I hope so,” Twyla said. “I bet when girls do it, it’s a lot nicer.”

“With soft music and rose petals,” I said. “They’d be gentle. And kiss, like, a lot.”

“I like kissing,” Twyla said, flicking her cigarette butt into the creek. “Have you ever kissed a girl?”

“No, have you?”

Twyla shook her head. “I bet it’s so soft.”

I turned toward her. “You want to try it and see?”

Twyla’s face brightened. Her smile always seemed to take up half her face. “Okay!”

I smothered my cigarette on the ground and wished I had some gum or something. We adjusted so we’re sitting criss-cross in front of each other, knee to knee. We leaned forward, closing our eyes just before our lips touched.

Twyla was right, it _ was _ soft. I alternated taking her top and lower lips between mine. They were plump and smooth. I brushed my tongue across lips and she opened her mouth. We explored, our tongues slowly moving between our mouths. I put both my hands on the sides of her head, softly holding her thick hair. She did the same.

I’m not sure how long we sat like that, making out, hands in each other’s hair. One of us pulled away and we stared at each other, then giggled. 

“That was great!” Twyla said. Her eyes were so green, with her pupils pinpoints, it was like looking into a gemstone. She was beautiful.

I nodded. “Boys are the worst. You going to the bonfire tonight?”

“If you are.”

“Yeah, nothing else to do. We should probably go,” I said. “I want to change first.”

***

A couple hours later, Grant picked me up in his heavily dented two-door Honda Civic. He wasn’t my boyfriend or anything, we just hung out. He’s nineteen, so he was our liquor connection. He’s from Thornbridge and went to school in Elmdale to learn electrical something. Or plumbing. I never really paid attention, it’s not like he went to real college.

I met him in the driveway. Maureen wasn’t home yet, but would be soon enough and I’d rather not get caught with a boy. I had changed into jeans, a camisole, and a flannel shirt and left behind a note saying I was staying the night at Twyla’s - which may or may not turn out to be true.

“Stevie!” Grant hugged me, picking me up and swinging me around. He plopped me back down. “How’s your day, beautiful?”

I produced a joint from my pocket. “About to get a lot better. Let’s go.”

He drove us to a dirt road behind a dairy farm. We rolled down the windows and lit the joint, the smoke drowning out the stench of cow shit. I leaned back in my seat and rested my feet against the dash. We smoked in silence. Grant isn’t the brightest, so not talking was a great way to keep my interest.

He was attractive though. His baby face could easily pass for sixteen, but his body was amazing. He was tall, tan, and muscular. Well, tall to me. Well, everyone was tall to me.

He snuffed the roach in the car’s ashtray and turned to me, running his fingers through my hair. “You’re so pretty,” he purred. Here we go.

I leaned over and kissed him. It was not at all like kissing Twyla. His lips were rough and his tongue aggressive. Like, he was totally fucking my mouth with it. His hands went right to my tits and ass.

“Let’s go to the back,” he whispered. We climbed into the backseat. The floor was littered with soda cans and empty cigarette packs, but the seat was always relatively clean.

I laid down and let him pull down my jeans and underwear. His mouth and one of his hands roamed over my body, his other hand roaming over his dick.

“Condom,” I said.

“Come on, you’re on the pill,” he whined. I snapped my thighs shut. “Fine.” He grabbed a condom.

I actually do like sex. It feels nice and shuts my brain off. Plus mom, who had me when she was fourteen, took me to the doctor for birth control on my last birthday, not even asking if I was having sex yet.

Grant finished and we straighten our clothes. Generally the only person who can make me come is me, so I’ve gotten really good at faking orgasms. I know the boys don’t care if I get off, it just makes them feel better, like they’re gods at fucking.

“Take me to the general store,” I said. “I have to pee.”

“As you wish, my princess.” He took my hand and kissed it. Grant always got affectionate after sex. It was weird. Like, we’re done with what we’re doing, why are we still touching and talking?

***

By the time we got to the bonfire behind Tommy’s house, it was dark and about twenty kids were there. Tommy helped Grant with the keg and I snagged a bottle of vodka from the trunk.

I found Twyla sitting on a lawn chair and squeezed in next to her. She put one of her legs over mine and I rested my head on her shoulder as we passed the bottle back and forth. Her cousins yelled “Dykes!” but we ignored them.

“Grant and I fucked in his car,” I told her.

“Ew!” she laughed. “How was it?”

“Same old, same old,” I sighed. “He has routine all sorted, I’m just along as the ride.”

Twyla laughed again and started twirling my hair around her finger. “You’re so funny, Stevie. I’m glad you came,” she said. “There’s too many boys in this town.”

“There are other girls,” I replied. “They’re just cunts.”

“Stevie!” Twyla giggled. She didn’t swear nearly as much as I did and never, ever used the “c-word.”

We spent the next few hours dancing, Twyla with my cousins and me with her’s (this town seriously needed a gene pool upgrade), sometimes together.

A clique of girls from school showed up. I ignored them, but Twyla talked to them because Twyla’s nice and friends with everyone. I’m not nice.

Eventually the group of girls walked toward me. Great. Bree, the cuntiest cunt to ever cunt, was saying something that ended with, “...well at least _ my _ dad isn’t in jail.”

“Is that directed at me?” I asked, hands on my hips. 

“Oh, honey, no,” Bree said. “I completely forgot that he was. Again.” Her gaggle of girls laughed. All except Twyla. “And at least you have your mother.”

I’m calm. I’m fine. This bitch talked about how trashy my family since we were in grade school. And, to be fair, we kinda were. I was about to say something about her being held back in the third grade - since we were busting out our greatest hits - when I saw Tywla start to tear up.

Fuck. Twyla’s dad was in jail.

“I don’t give a fuck what you think about me, Bree, but maybe you shouldn’t be talking shit about other people. It’s not cute on you.”

Her hand went to her chest and eyes widened. “Oh, Twyla,” she turned toward her, “I’m _ so _ sorry! I didn’t even think of your father.” Bullshit.

“That’s okay,” Twyla said quietly. “Robbing vending machines was bound to catch up with him one day…”

Bree laughed. “Twyla, you sweet thing. It must be hard, having so much of your family locked up.”

I didn’t even see Twyla’s reaction, I was already lunging for this bitch when a strong arm suddenly grabbed my waist.

“Let go of me!” I screamed. It was Sean.

“Come on, guys, this party is lame, “Bree said. “And it looks like we’re interrupting some Budd love.” Her flock laughed and followed their leader. Twyla had already disappeared. But I had seen the look in Bree’s eyes. For a moment she was scared shitless and I kinda wished I could get a picture of it and put it on a tee shirt.

“Not worth it,” Sean said in my ear as I struggled. I stilled and he let go of me.

“You need to calm down,” he said shoved a pill in my mouth. “Take a xanny.” He forced his beer against my mouth and I swallowed. Fine, maybe he did sometimes come through with the drugs.

The rest of the night was a blur. It felt like my arms and legs were made of stone. I sat on a bench made of a log for the remainder of the party. I think someone was next to me at some point, I thought it was Grant, but maybe it wasn’t. 

I was so tired, I just wanted to go home. I didn’t see Grant’s car, so I started walking. I wondered if mom was home, our house was close. Fuck, I was so goddamn tired. I remember I took a break from walking, but not what happened after that.

***

I woke up. My mouth tasted disgusting. My pillow didn’t smell like it usually did and my blanket felt weird. I looked around. Oh, fuck. I sat up. I was on a couch, but this was not my house. Not mom’s, not Maureen’s, not Twyla’s.

“Good morning, Princess,” a voice said.

Ronnie. Thank god.

She sat down next to me and handed me a glass of water. “Found you two houses down in the grass,” she said. “You were a chore to get back here.”

I drank the water and avoided her gaze. 

“You wanna tell me what you were doing?”

“There was a party.” I knew there wasn’t going to be an explanation good enough. “I was drinking and I think my cousin gave me something?” I scrolled through my hazy memory. Xanax. Right. “I just wanted to go home.”

“I thought I told you to call me if you were ever in trouble.”

I nodded. She had.

“You want me to drive you to your mother’s?”

I shook my head. “I’m staying with Maureen.”

Ronnie nodded, her face softened in a glimpse-and-you’ll-miss-it way. She reached out to stroke my hair. “You gotta get it together, kiddo.”

I nodded. I know I fucked up. I was a fuck up. I do stupid shit all the time. But I _ do _ try to keep it together, I do.

Before my brain could think about it, my body flung itself against Ronnie. My head on her shoulder, I cried. I sobbed like my lungs kept reaching for air, but couldn’t grasp any. Ronnie wrapped her arms around me and that just made it so much worse. Jesus, there was snot. I was leaking snot onto her shirt.

She gently rocked us on the couch and petted my hair. She let me cry and I knew she would never say a word about it. She understood I need to keep my tenuous grasp on pride. She understood.


End file.
